


warmth, shared

by elareine



Series: Advent Calendar 2019 [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Aging, Chronic Pain, Cold, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Jason's cheery self-image, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: A quiet moment on a mountain, set sometime in the future.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Damian Wayne
Series: Advent Calendar 2019 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558834
Comments: 8
Kudos: 174





	warmth, shared

**Author's Note:**

> Advent calendar day six: Sharing a coat/sweatshirt. I went full Sankt Martin on this one.

The Caucasus mountains were just as beautiful as Jason remembered, and as deadly. 

Some sick son of a bitch was using the no-man’s-land beyond state control to fabricate chemical weapons. Roy had been the one to notice the unusually high amount of water and electricity that seemed to just vanish into the void. All attempts at electronic surveillance had been shut down with a precision that spoke of a big operation. Since Damian and Jason knew the area best, they had been dispatched to check it out.

It was slow work. Owing to the informal communication network still firmly in place here, there was nowhere they could stay but the wilderness. They weren’t deep into winter yet—it had barely snowed—but Jason had encountered friendlier terrain in the Russian Urals. 

Deep down, he knew he was becoming more and more of a liability as time went on—and in quite a different way than he had been in his youth. His broken body couldn’t keep up with Damian’s anymore. Those years of deprivation, of injury, of  _ death _ , were finally catching up to him. 

Missions like these reminded him of that, and he hated it. 

So he didn’t say anything when Damian insisted that a fire would be the surest way to get themselves caught. 

“I’ll take first watch.” And second watch, though Jason did not say so. There was no way he would get any sleep tonight; might as well get the brat some rest. 

His hip would be killing him in the morning, he knew. Already he couldn’t bend his left elbow by more than ninety degrees. The cold would make it worse. 

_ That’s what you get for living past thirty _ , a voice that still sounded too much like Bruce told him.  _ Should’ve died long ago.  _

Damian did not answer right away. It was so unlike him that Jason frowned. “What?” 

Silence. Then Damian’s bundle dropped to the ground with a quiet thud, and the man beside it. “Wake me up at three.” 

“Sure.” 

Turning his back, Jason sat down at the mouth of the small cave they had chosen as their hideout for the night. Visibility wasn’t that great—they were surrounded by trees—but there was enough space for Jason to feel confident he could shoot anything before it shot him. 

Temperatures were dropping steadily as the night progressed. Jason was already covered in his sleeping bag at his front, but it couldn’t stop the shivers running through his body. Even during perimeter checks, the cold never left his bones and aching muscles. 

There was something comforting about the silence, as unnerving as it was. Jason had spent too many years of his life on the streets, freezing just like this, watching people walk by. At least in nature, there was no one to ignore him. 

There was a rustling sound behind him that indicated Damian getting up. Without turning around, Jason sighed. So much for his plan to get Damian some much-needed rest. 

Ah, well. He could curl up and freeze just as well in the cave. It would make no difference to his night.

But Damian didn’t step out of the cave. Instead, he maneuvered himself onto the ground behind Jason, moving so his long legs were bracketing Jason’s under the blanket. From the corner of his eyes, Jason watched him put down his sword next to Jason’s rifle. 

When he heard rustling behind him, then the sound of a zipper opening, Jason tensed. But Damian ordered: “Hold still,” and draped his coat over Jason’s shoulders, as far as it would go with both of them in it. Damian’s sleeping bag followed in just the same way. His arms wound around Jason’s middle, pulling him back against Damian’s firm body, and then Jason found himself warm, enveloped, and safe, with no idea how he got there. 

“What—what are you doing?” 

“Keeping watch. It is past three.” 

Damian had never managed to quite catch up on Jason’s height, but it turned out that it was perfect for resting his head on Jason’s shoulder. His warmth was slowly seeping into Jason, relaxing the muscles in his back almost against his will. 

“By using me as a pillow?” The question didn’t come out quite as sarcastic as had been intended. 

“If that is what it takes to have you comfortable, yes.” 

Jason flinched. “I do not need your charity.” 

The arms tightened around him as if to prevent him from escaping. “That is not what I meant. Only that you are stubborn and will not admit to weakness.”

“Pot, kettle,” Jason grumbled, but he allowed himself to relax into Damian. This was strange, to say the least, but… he was willing to indulge the brat. 

“Maybe,” Damian acknowledged. 

Silence fell once again, and Jason found his thoughts drifting, secure in the knowledge that Damian would keep an eye out. 

This situation felt familiar. There was a story… What was the saint’s name again? He couldn’t remember. A Roman soldier, halving his coat to share it with a freezing beggar. 

Jason mentally shook himself. What a whimsical thought. Damian was no saint. That was what Jason liked about him. 

There was a slight shift behind him. 

“You are a warrior.” Damian’s voice, so close to Jason’s ear, was softer than he’d ever heard it before. “There is no shame in bearing the scars of that.” 

“That is not what it feels like.” 

“There is no one else I would rather have at my side.” A pause. “And I would remind you that I have the choice of two Batmans and three Kryptonians. I do not say that lightly.” 

Jason chuckled. “What an honor.” 

“You understand what it means to be human, and not. Understand  _ me _ . I would not willingly give that up.” 

It felt weird to talk about such things without being able to see Damian’s face. Though, perhaps, that was the only reason he and Damian could have this conversation at all. 

“Why are you here, Damian?” he whispered. “Why are you doing this?” 

“Because I am… afraid.” The word sounded like it had to be forced out of Damian’s throat, or he would choke on it. “You have been my hope for so long. I cannot bear the thought of you dying because you wish to prove something that has been proven over and over.” 

Jason moved without his conscious input, taking Damian’s right hand into both of this and squeezing reassuringly. “I won’t.” 

Damian made a disbelieving sound. 

“Nah, I mean it. I—look, I’ve never been the most safety-conscious of people, but—I do want to live.” It was only as he said it that Jason knew that it was the truth. “I do.” 

“Stay,” Damian demanded. Jason didn’t think he just meant their current position. “Stay with me.” 

“I will not leave you,” Jason swore. 

Damian’s cheek pressed against his for one fleeting second. “Then we are in agreement.” 

Jason nodded, feeling exhausted in a whole new way all of a sudden. His eyes fell shut.

“Sleep,” he heard, “I have you.” 

He did. Jason couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like he was so thoroughly had. 

He fell asleep like that, with Damian’s left hand placed where it had been this entire time: Right over Jason’s heart. 


End file.
